


Nothing but Fear Itself

by unikorento (tinypinkmouse)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-10
Updated: 2011-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-17 23:33:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/182543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinypinkmouse/pseuds/unikorento
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bobby can't go upstairs anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing but Fear Itself

**Author's Note:**

> Set around 5x03, Free to Be You and Me

Bobby can't go upstairs anymore. Sitting in a wheelchair makes it damned near impossible to even get through the door between the sitting room and kitchen, let alone climb a set of stairs.

There's a lot of things he can't do now, but the fact that he can't get upstairs is what he hates the most. He never spent much time there, but it's the part of the house that holds his bedroom. His wife's things are up there too (and he almost never touches them, but now he _couldn't_ even if he wanted to, and that's something else) and his small collection of books that have nothing to do with hunting. Rifling through them helps him sleep sometimes.

He keeps thinking he can hear someone walking around up there. A creak like someone stepping on the floorboards just above him, or the low rumble of furniture being moved. Only now and then, but Bobby's so sure of it. Every time it happens he tenses up, grabs his shotgun and waits. It has to be something solid, since a spirit would make a completely different set of sounds, and it's probably human because Bobby's house is protected against demons from just about every angle nowadays. But no matter how long he waits, alone, in the half-dark, whoever it is never comes downstairs.

Bobby thinks maybe he should fire a warning shot, or shout at the bastard to come out. Or, hell, grab a broom and just bang on the ceiling. But there's a chance that he hadn't heard anything in the first place, and that would just make him an old man making a fuss in an empty house.

The thought of it makes him feel uneasy to the point where it's almost physical. A wave of cold, clammy disgust. So he never makes a sound. He just waits, but nothing ever happens. No one ever comes.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Nothing but Fear Itself [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/313645) by [tinypinkmouse_podfic (tinypinkmouse)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinypinkmouse/pseuds/tinypinkmouse_podfic)




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